Tornado Strikes

It seems so unreal.  I cannot quite grasp it.  A tornado in Western Massachusetts; it’s unheard of.  This occurrence is common in the Midwest, where they are equipped with storm cellars to cope with a hard hit, a significant time spent underground, and a developed warning system.  The residents know how to react, they know what to do, how to rebuild.  Watching the news footage made my heart skip and my stomach turn.  How could this have happened?  Familiar places in ruins, family and friends isolated, stranded without utilities by downed trees and debris, unsure what to do next.  I did not have much of a reaction to the earthquake/tsunami in Japan, most likely because it is so far away, and was too catastrophic to even begin to comprehend, just like something out of a movie.  This feels like yet another natural disaster movie, but it is right in my own backyard, making the storm and the destruction so much more real.  What can I do?  What is my responsibility?  Rebuilding will happen with or without me, and the news reports may be hyping up the the damages sustained by the hardest hit sections of cities and towns.  My home did not incur any damages, in spite of two separate tornadoes touching down on each side of the city. 

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

I thought that this was it.  I thought that this was my calling.  I thought that it would be different.  Famous last words.  Rehabilitation is uniquely different from zoo and shelter work, but it is still animal care.  I believe such work to be a noble cause and I love being a part of it and interacting with the animals.  Perhaps, I wanted me to pursue this.  I pushed myself, just like a parent who tries to live the life that they wanted through their child.  I do have a history with animal care.  I also have a history of leaving animal care.  Those past experience can be interpreted in a number of ways, though I am uncertain how exactly to interpret the things that I take interest in, if they’re things to be taken seriously or not. 

Before I went to Ireland, I wanted to work with birds.  When I got to Ireland, I was thoroughly engaged in my work, but I also wanted to work with the seals.  At home, I fell back to animal care, while wanting to return to the ocean, and just travel in general.  Now, after only two weeks, I don’t want to be here.  I want to be back on the seashore; I want to be back in Ireland.  Although, I still can’t see myself working at that particular marine station again.  I thought that traveling at least would do the trick and make me happy, and it did.  I was in awe on my way journey through British Columbia and was eager to learn and do in my first week. 

I’m getting on well with people here, though the connections aren’t very deep, and I don’t know if they ever will be.  I’m keeping myself busy and active.  I could be on the fringe of homesickness, yet I don’t find myself missing it much without my lover still there.  I feel like I’ve been coping better without him so far this time, compared to last year.  I’m feeling under the weather in general, which could make me feel either more awful about this situation and blow it out of proportion or could be a sign that this isn’t the path for me.  It could be stress and fear regarding the chaotic learning yet to come during the impending overflow of patients.  Although, this feeling isn't always terribly obvious or right at the surface.  It certainly comes up each time I handle a new animal or interact with a more dangerous one.  I don’t know if I have the capability to fake confidence.  But it’s not even supposed to be faking; it’s believing on nothing that I can do something that I’ve never done. 

As a staff member was leaving today, I had the urge to plead to take me with her.  I’m ready to travel again.  Although, part of me wants to stick it out here because it will be an amazing experience, whether or not I continue with this as a career path.  I’ve also made a commitment and I’d feel rather silly leaving so early, especially after pushing for a more extensive internship.  And it’s only three and a half months, now closer to three.  I can do this.  Stay positive and focus on what I have, what I’m gaining, and find the joy in what I'm doing.  I don’t want to be constantly wishing for something else or I’ll never be truly happy.

Generational Destruction

Every history of the "civilized" settlement of the New World, epitomizes the efforts of those first pioneers, how they tamed the land, conquered the wild beasts and the native people, and implemented modern "progress" in the face of adversity.  It was quite an achievement to set off into the unknown and successfully make a living for oneself.  Yet, settlers seemed to have seen the land, not for what it is, but for what it could be; sizing up its potential, its worth.  They shaped it into the places and the lives that they left behind, even though they were trying to get away from it all and start something new with the thought that, somehow, this would be different.  And so, the preexisting life and the processes that had worked well for millions of years were thoughtlessly disrupted and ravaged.  The settlers quickly began to take their surroundings for granted; only taking and never returning, paying back, or appreciating the gifts available to them. 

Today, we continue with this trend, initially marveling at the land’s natural beauty until our thoughts quickly turn to what we can get out of it, how we can benefit.  We continue to ravage natural resources, alter landscapes, never really considering the big picture, the long-term and large scale damaging effects.  Areas boast natural beauty to attract tourists, while simultaneously destroying it to support another economic facet, in order to double their profits.

We have little time to stop and take notice of our environment, to observe the changes that we have created.  Without this time to reflect, the alterations to our landscape seem so gradual in the grand scheme of our time.  We quickly become accustomed to that garden where an old-growth forest once stood, or the little shopping plaza that continues its expansion over former farmland.  These become the norm, as if the landscape never looked any differently.  This makes it easier for us to justify continuing development because it seems that our impact won’t be that much compared to what it is already, but compared to what the environment was decades ago, the consequences are huge.

In the midst of this, we keep seeking out natural beauty to get away from the grotesque urban sprawl, only to bring it with us, as we clear the land to build our lakeside mansions, followed by roads for easier access, and then stores, so that we never have to leave our bubble of a world.  Once there, we complain about the wildlife and their interference with our lives, our quiet and peace of mind.

Occasionally, we lament how the future generations will not see the land as we once saw it or as it once was, yet we continue the mutilation.

Humans and Nature

When I think of wildlife rehabilitation, I think of humans providing wild animals with a second chance at life, in response to the disruption of their lives by humans; an attempt to right the wrongs of our species.  This would include animals that have been hit by cars, caught in snares, and attacked by house pets.  And then there are other cases, such as a fawn that arrived two days ago after having been attacked by a mink.  A few thoughts came to my mind upon first hearing of the injured animal, and during further consideration thereafter. 

Of course, the first was, oh, the poor baby left on its own to withstand an unprovoked attack.  This seems to be the immediate response of the general majority, as we are unable to bear the thought of anything being killed, in spite of the fact that we are guilty of murders a plenty as a species from the food that we eat to the wars that we fight, which is an entirely different discussion.  Also, we tend to have difficulty accepting the fact that death is part of the natural order of things. 

This brings me to my second thought, which was that the mink was denied its dinner.  A significant energy load is required by an animal, in order to obtain food, whether it be via hunting, scavenging, or grazing.  Energy to locate specific food sources or the most energy rich sources, energy to collect or attack that food, and energy to consume it.  The mink was in the midst of this process, devoting so much of itself to this particular prey, yet all for nothing.  Maybe it had not eaten for a few days and would not have adequate energy to follow through this food cycle again.  Maybe it will starve. 

And what of the suffering that the fawn had to endure?  If the mink was allowed to finish what it started, then the fawn might have been dead within minutes.  But instead, it remained alive for hours, during capture, transport via car, ferry, and car again, a physical examination, and waiting in a crate for the arrival of a doctor to officially determine that there was no way it could be saved.  Even though, the fawn was “humanely” euthanized in the end, how humane was that whole escapade?  All because the attack had been witnessed at a family friendly campground and the adults did not want the children to see or even be aware of death in their general vicinity.  It was easier to send the fawn off to the wildlife hospital, so that they could ignorantly tell their children that it was safe from the big, bad mink and that it would be okay. 

The final thought was actually brought up by a co-worker, as to why the fawn had been attacked in the first place.  The wound sustained was on its face, which suggested that the fawn did not even try to run away, even though they are apparently fully capable of doing so as soon as they are born.  Natural selection was likely at work, weeding out the weak or sick, in favor of individuals that are capable of living in their natural habitat and coping with the dangers within it. 

So my question is, how involved should we get?  There is a reason why animal parents abandon or remove individual offspring from their nest, den, or what have you.  Should we be interfering with this selective process out of our own desire to prevent suffering?  Are we even qualified to "play god" in determining who lives or dies?  Nature has been working in its mysterious ways much longer than humans have roamed, much less dominated the Earth.  We have removed ourselves so far from nature that we are generally no longer able to comprehend these mysteries. 

Perhaps, this is why many people turn to religion, as there is some void that was once occupied by a connection to the Earth and its creatures.  We still feel the pangs of this void, this separation, and we struggle to fill it, so that the pain might end, we may become more enlightened, and we may understand the meaning of this life.  Yet, religion is just another human creation, which seems to further distance us from whence we came.  It creates a system of morals, of right and wrong, of heaven and hell that are completely unheard of among other species. 

Today, these morals do seem quite necessary, given the complex nature and life that humans have constructed for themselves.  Yet, just as one religious denomination tries to push its beliefs onto another, so we try to apply our morals to other living creatures.  But it just does not work.  Though we inhabit the same Earth, we live in completely different worlds.  And so, just as with different religions and cultures, we should learn to accept the practices and beliefs of our fellow beings.  We need to stop anthropomorphizing and try to see the world through the eyes of the mink, the fawn, the leaves that the fawn consumes, or the bacteria that enrich the soil for the plant life.  Only then may we be able to answer the question of what our responsibilities are to life as a whole.

Homesickness Begins

I think that homesickness is starting to catch up with me.  Although, this time, I find myself not just missing certain aspects of home, but also missing Ireland.  Something really clicked there, it felt like home away from home.  Perhaps it felt right, although, I cannot say this for certain because it has been so long since my first few days there and the exact feelings and thoughts evade me. 

Currently, I feel lethargic, disconnected, disinterested.  There is not enough to do right now to keep myself occupied and my mind distracted.  Work hours have already been shortened, as another intern has arrived, yet few new patients.  Two more interns will be here at the beginning of next week, but I am uncertain what work there will be for them by then.

I know that the animals will come.  It is just a matter of when.  The intern coordinator has said that the number of patients build up gradually during the summer with a few intakes every day, so that, after a time, the center becomes crowded and chaotic.  I feel fairly ready.  The tasks that I am unsure of are ones that I simply need to practice and get in a habit of doing.  In other cases, such as learning proper restraining techniques, incoming patients are required.  That is something that I am rather nervous about, to have a good grip that is safe for the animal and handler/s alike, while trying to summon up some shred of confidence in oneself, so that the animal may not take advantage of the faint-hearted. 

I suppose I can ask for projects and push myself to engage in creative endeavors of my own that will get me through to the busy season.

Don't Take Life for Granted

Life happens so fast, whether it is the days that pass us by or the final breaths before death.  Today, there was much excitement over a young eaglet, which was to come to the center and begin his second chance at life, after a steep drop from his nest that afternoon.  Upon opening the box, which he was delivered in by the retired Coast Guard officers, bright, alert eyes were staring up at his many onlookers, who gazed back in awe at his small, downy covered body and adult-like feet and talons.  There was life in that box.  There was strength, a spark, a will to live and fight, which suggested a promise of recovery and survival. 

Once back at the center, he was lifted from his makeshift nest and placed on the examination table to assess his physical condition.  The veterinarian discovered multiple breaks in both wings.  As quickly as this life had come into this world and into ours at the center, it would just as soon exit, since birds need to be physically perfect, in order to survive in the wild.  It was as if his life had slipped away right then, while he was still squirming and crying on the table top.  The mask was placed over his beak, and as the gas gradually passed into him, he succumbed to sleep, so that the transition into death would be less painful and traumatic.  And so, we are finally left with a body, a former shell of an eaglet, to reunite with the life from whence he came. 

On the other hand, I watch the young starlings, crows, pigeon, finch, and geese, seemingly so helpless and dependent upon assistance to remain nourished, safe, and warm.  Just last weekend, all of them, except for the goslings and finch, were being fed essentially a protein smoothie through a tube stuck down each one’s throat and into the crop.  Now, many of the starlings have learned to eat solid food and meal worms from their dishes and to bathe in and drink from their water bowl.  Although, they will still nip at the hand that feeds, demanding service, while I attempt to feed the two slower learners. 

But even these slower, smaller starlings learn quickly, as just today, one was being tube fed in morning and had figured out how to feed himself by evening!  Their maturation time and capacity for learning is incredible!  Perhaps, in another week, they will be in an outdoor cage, and in yet another week, foraging for their own food wherever their wings may take them.  The finch is two days away from the next move towards greater independence himself.  The crows are demanding larger portions of protein smoothie and are beginning to eat solid food and meal worms.  The goslings have graduated from their playpen in the isolation room to an outdoor enclosure behind the clinic about two days ago.  Soon enough, they will all be fully grown and gone, to be replaced by a slew of new patients. 

I suppose that the lesson here is to not take life for granted, as every moment is precious, every moment important.  To live as you want to live, do as you want to do, throw caution to the wind.  Well, sort of.  To appreciate the little things, the simple things in life, because those are what hold our whole existence together and make life worthwhile.  It is much easier to recognize this in species with life spans so much shorter than our own and that are outside of our bubble of a world.

Island Life and Exploring the Seashore

It is strange to be on an island that is surrounded by so much land and activity on the sea with a rather severed, indirect connection to the ocean.  It seems to defy the concept that has been molded into my mind as to what an island really is.  There seem to be various types of islands, based on their formations over the course of geologic time, the climatic conditions that they experience, the natural resources covering the land, the size of human populations and the intensity of their development, the nearness to land, and the closeness of exposure to the raging temptress of the oceanic depths.

Although, I am technically on an island, it is still a whole new culture shock.  I was expecting to and given the impression that I would “get away from it all” here.  To a certain extent I have, particularly since home is at the opposite side of the continent, but civilization is only a fifteen minute drive away, where I am over-stimulated and still quite confused by the hustle and bustle of town life, which is complete with traffic, constant chatter, and thriving commercialism.  In the summer, during the peak of tourist season, the island population is supposed to double to something like ten thousand people.  The center of town, every tourist trap, and the island’s natural beauty attractions will be crawling.  I anticipate spending much of the summer hiding away in the woodland haven of the wildlife center. 

Yet, for now, I can immerse myself in the beauty of the island and give in to the allure of the seashore.  I still find it to be quite exciting and magical, as I cautiously step from rock to rock, unsure of my footing on slippery seaweed, and having become unaccustomed to such a balancing act, while simultaneously being distracted by familiar and new seashore treasures alike.  I imagine that there are at least creatures of the same genus as those found along the Irish coastline, as they are at a similar latitudes and experience similar climatic conditions. 

As I first stepped upon the stony shore of Ruckle Park, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, the scattered movement of several tiny critters.  Crabs covered the shore, racing for cover below rocks, between crevices, and underneath patches of fucoids.  I must watch where my feet fall, in order to preserve these precious lives, though it is quite challenging to determine exactly where they are hiding.  I descended upon another stretch of shore and was struck by the size of what I believe to be a Porphyra species, which is a papery, yet tough, reddish-pink seaweed with a glint of iridescence.  I found it to be double, maybe even triple the size of any plant that I had come across in Ireland.  From the grassy edge above the sea, I noticed a stretch of feathery looking seaweed, billowing in the current.  I could not be sure exactly what these plants were from such a distance and I felt the urge to find out.  I managed to navigate my way down and much to my dismay, as I approached the water’s edge, I became certain that the invasive Sargassum muticum has also found its way to the shores of British Columbia.